Conversation
by Wilusa
Summary: A sequel to 'Convergence,' the obvious next step. Written Apr. 2004.


DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

**_Note:_** Like any speculative Carnivale fiction written now, this story may be rendered AU by canon established in a future season.  
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"You got your own radio program?" The small-town sheriff sounded suitably impressed.

"Yes, in California." Tommy Dolan paused to let that glamorous state name sink in. "I just came to Oklahoma to spend Thanksgiving with my sister. But when I got wind of an interesting story here, I wired my station and they encouraged me to stay on and look into it."

Sheriff Lyle Donovan asked cautiously, "What exactly do you want to know? It's about that so-called healer, right?"

"Right. And I want to know all you can tell me." Tommy settled back in the chair opposite the sheriff's desk, crossed his legs, and favored the man with his most ingratiating smile.

_Doesn't this guy know the healer's powers are real? If not, I won't enlighten him. Let him think my "story" is the mass hysteria._

Tommy knew for a fact that his 7-year-old niece had been paralyzed since infancy, by polio, and a young carnival worker had healed her. Completely.

He was stunned by the implications. If Donovan didn't know the healer was on the level, so much the better: the story wouldn't make national headlines till _he_ broke it.  
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Donovan frowned. "It was back in July. It was a scam from beginnin' to end--had to be!

"The carnival's an outfit called Carnivale, spelled with an _e_ on the end. Run by a dwarf named Samson. I've known him for years. He's always run a _carnival_, damn it, nothin' more.

"I heard they were settin' up, and I went to the site and told them to move on. Folks here ain't got money to burn. But then I found out there'd been a commotion in town, with some little girl and her grandma claimin' they'd spotted a carnie who'd cured the girl of paralysis."

Tommy gave a noncommittal murmur. _He won't learn from me that the little girl was my niece._

Donovan shook his head. "Next thing I knew," he said bitterly, "Samson was claimin' he wasn't in the carnival business no more--he was puttin' on revival meetings, with faith healing! He got the local minister on his side, probably offered him a cut o' the take. Nothin' I could do about it.

"The star attraction was a scrawny teenager. I guess you've heard there were crowds. He was mobbed by fans at one point, coulda been killed." Donovan shuddered. "Samson claimed this kid was a famous healer named Benjamin St. John. Said healing took so much outta him that he could only help one person a day. So the first night, a tentful o' people shelled out good money to see him 'heal' a woman no one knew or could ever find again. She was a plant, for sure."

Tommy was confused. He'd assumed that if Donovan didn't know the healer was genuine, it was because he'd jumped to that conclusion and hadn't tried to follow up on the cures. "The healing was a fake?" _Meaning the kid's carnie bosses didn't know he was the real thing, and he wasn't willing to tell them?_

"Of course it was. The incident in town musta been a fake too, the girl and her so-called grandma connected with the carnival. We couldn't identify them, either."

_No, because they live nearer Milfay than Tipton, and Maddy's never gone to school. Fran and Gus still come to Tipton for supplies, but they've stopped bringing the family._

"You said that was the first night," Tommy pressed him. "How many performances did they give?"

Donovan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "They blew it with the third, because the kid didn't get there on time, and they got caught havin' a different one ready to pose as him and 'heal' someone. Another plant, of course.

"But...things do get a little strange here. Where 'Benjamin St. John' was, to make him late, was at my ma's house."

Tommy sat up straighter. "What? Your family was involved in this?"

Donovan nodded, looking miserable. "My ma was ill--in bad shape, with dust pneumonia. I found this kid at her bedside. A carnie gal was in the house too. I blew up, threw 'em both out.

"Ma was too ill to say much. But later, her hired man Walter told me she'd been expectin' the kid, wanted to see him. She claimed she'd seen him in dreams, thought he was the son of a guy she'd known years ago. I felt bad when I realized that."

"She wanted him to heal her?" _If that woman's still alive, I have to see her!_

"No. An hour or so later I saw she was near death, and I panicked." Sounding defensive, Donovan blurted out, "I didn't really believe in the kid's 'powers'! But if there was a _chance_, I wasn't gonna let my ma die. So I picked her up, put her in my car and rushed to the carnival tent--" His voice broke.

Tommy murmured sympathetically.

Donovan needed a minute to compose himself. Then he continued, his voice ragged. "I was the one realized they were gonna stage a 'healing' with another kid, a ringer. I started yellin' about it.

"But then the real kid showed up, the one who'd been at our house. It looked like he meant to try to heal Ma. He told people to move back for some reason.

"Then she came around a little, and made clear she didn't want him to heal her! I don't know why, but everyone heard her. Hell, maybe she knew he was a fake, but she liked him, and she didn't want him to give himself away by tryin' and failin' to do something he couldn't."

_Or maybe_, Tommy reflected, _she didn't want him to give himself away by trying and succeeding._

"The boy asked her a question," Donovan went on, "and she gave him an answer. But I didn't catch what either of them said. Then she died, right there on the floor of the damn tent..."

Shaken, Tommy observed a few moments' respectful silence.

But even then he was thinking, incorrigibly, _I wonder if there's someone else who may have heard that question and answer._

When he dared, he asked, "What happened next? I suppose the carnival left, after they'd been caught using a ringer?"

Donovan nodded. "Yep, they left the next day," he said wearily. "After Ma was buried I ran some checks. Like I thought, Carnivale hadn't put on 'revival meetings' anywhere else. And there was no record of a faith healer, anywhere, usin' the name Benjamin St. John."

"He was a fake, of course," Tommy lied. "What's most interesting is the townspeople's gullibility. Your case is different, of course! No one can be blamed for grasping at straws when a loved one is dying."

Donovan grunted, and Tommy asked in an offhand way, "Do you know where the carnival was going, though, when it left here?"

"Nope, only that it was headed south." The sheriff looked puzzled. "Not its usual circuit, not reasonable for that time o' year. Just makin' random stops--I've tried to locate it, and couldn't."

Tommy knit his brow. A carnival heading south--from southern Oklahoma--in July? An experienced manager taking it into oppressive heat? Thinking aloud, he said, "There must be a company somewhere that owns it, that would demand to be kept informed of where it's at."

"No, it seems there ain't. It's just a two-bit outfit. Samson may own it himself."

"Strange." He mulled over what he'd heard. As a radio personality who craved publicity, he was fascinated by the mystery of a genuine healer's trying to hide what he could do. Passing up fame and fortune.

_But can I go public with this? It's not enough. I want to find him!_

Unfortunately, it seemed that wouldn't be easy. Donovan hadn't found even the carnival. Wherever it had gotten to, there was no guarantee the youth who'd healed Maddy was still with it. And whether or not Benjamin St. John was his real name, he might have stopped using it.

Tommy sighed. "Thanks for your help, Sheriff. Guess I'll be on my way. I need to talk to some of the people who flocked to the 'healer,' ask what they were thinking then and what they think now."

_I'd need to do that if I really cared about the mass hysteria angle. But the truth is, I don't. I can question the Donovans' hired man, Walter--beyond that, I'm stumped._

The sheriff hesitated, then opened his desk drawer and pulled something out. "One thing more. I got a stack o' these in the mail after Carnivale had moved on. I suppose there's no reason I shouldn't show you, even if my ma did know the kid's father."

Tommy took the poster Donovan handed him and stared at it, stupefied.

Donovan said quietly, "_This_ is 'Benjamin St. John.' "  
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Tommy had his story. A story he'd never dreamed of.

A face. A presumably real name, Ben Krohn Hawkins. And the horrifying reason this miracle worker sought to avoid publicity.

The hand that held the poster was shaking.

**_"Wanted for Murder"?_**

_People who claim to understand supernatural powers say they can come from God. But they can also come from Satan._

And Justin has been telling his followers the Antichrist is among us...

Tommy looked at the sheriff and said, "Okay if I keep this? I have a preacher friend who'll be interested."  
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(The End)__

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End file.
